A Lovely Contradiction
by a-bit-of-this-and-that
Summary: Eric and Samantha Thorne have spent years without seeing or thinking of one another, but turmoil in the city forces their paths to cross again. Bodies are dropping, and what exactly are the Factionless up to? Their factions are trying to work together; they can either devolve into expected rivalry or rise to find something more. Something that surprises them both.
1. Ch 1 - Eight Years

**I own nothing!**

 **This is an Eric-centric fic, but it doesn't all take place in Dauntless- we'll get to see the rest of the city!**

 ***This involves the cannon of the books, though it does not focus on all of the same characters (though they will be mentioned) or on the same time-line. Also,** **Eric and his cohort are in their mid/late twenties instead of teens.**

* * *

 **1.  
Eight years.  
_**

The clinic here near the outskirts of the city is nothing like the sleek, pristine walls of the hospital a mere twenty minute drive away. To compare the two practically makes one forget that both medical units even exist in the same city.

But this area is Factionless.

Abnegation had developed this drop-in clinic for Factionless members decades ago. It has not seen too many updates since then, but it does manage to serve its purpose. Members of Abnegation act as "nurses" there and are trained in most basic First-Aid and are able to dole out common medications as needed. They are not exactly fully-qualified medical professionals, but their care and preventative measures do make a difference.

For anything more serious and for true wellness check-ups, doctors from Erudite roll in twice each week to see patients. They bring with them a limited supply of more heavy-duty prescriptions, the ability to perform more serious procedures, and the power to make a referral to a City Hospital. Such referrals are the only way the Factionless can see a specialist, so Physician Days generally bring in a lot of traffic.

"Depressing day..."

Samantha Thorne looks up from typing up a rationale for the referral she'd just made. She spares her friend a smile and reaches out quickly to ruffle the other woman's dark pixie cut.

"Tell me about it," she mutters to her friend and co-worker. "This guy might need part of his foot amputated from an ulcer he waited to get checked out-the infection might be deep. Totally preventable..."

"Ugh, fuck that ..."

Trained professional though she may be, Dr. Claire White does not enjoy anything to do with feet. Ever.

"Thaddeus is already saying he thinks we'll be turning people away by 4:00 ..."

Samantha jerks her chin towards the tall man who's hurrying by. Thaddeus - _Ted-_ Coughlin manages the clinic. The place is practically his baby. He is Abnegation born and raised, and he'd even volunteered there as a teenager. One might think there was a little Erudite in him with how meticulous he is about tracking inventory and keeping a regular staff rotation.

"It's going to be quite the day, then," Claire sighs.

She flattens down the short hair that Samantha had mussed before heading back out to the waiting area. Some Abnegation volunteers are running a sort of triage for anyone who comes in claiming they want to see a physician, organizing them the best they can by severity rather than first-come-first-serve. There is usually some dissension among the Factionless about this method because, inevitably, some will not be seen while others with more pressing medical issues will get attention even if they get there late. Still, given that physicians are not regularly available to them, priority it is the only reasonable way to get through the crowd.

With this in mind, Samantha swiftly finishes her write-up and then sets aside her tablet in a small cubicle behind the front desk labeled **"Thorne."** They don't have offices or even lockers here, so they must keep their things in the square cubbies- _the most private and secure personal area of the clinic_. Abnegation, of course, would not set up a building that wasted space on personal offices to distinguish any worker as superior to another. Erudite on the other hand, celebrates accomplishment and advancement- _for instance, the Director of the hospital has a particularly lavish, glass-walled office overlooking the hospital foyer_. Nothing is like that here, which is as humbling as it is curious ...though not altogether awful, Samantha supposes.

"Hi Charlotte," she greets the slim woman in the waiting room. "Who's next?"

"Walsh," the redheaded Abnegation calls and hands Samantha a folder with a hand-written form she'd gotten from the patient.

Samantha glances at it and then up at the older man who stands up and moves slowly toward her. He is a grizzled man, graying but thick and still strong in his build. She takes all of this in and is then distracted by his face. He is missing an eye, thick scar tissue surrounding the left socket and most of his nose. His remaining eye doesn't look quite right- _part of his eyelid is misshapen and the eye is slightly milky._

It is an eerie kind of stare that he gives her, his face grim.

"Good morning ...you can follow me this way Mr.-"

She glances back down at the brown folder she's still holding.

"Just Walsh," he grunts.

"Walsh," Samantha nods her understanding, leading the way to the curtained sectionals on the far wall of the clinic. "How are you doing today?"

"Well I'm here, aren't I?" is his gruff response.

Samantha almost smiles but note quite. Not everyone gets in at the clinic when they want to; perhaps he could be just a little more grateful?

When she gets him to one of the small sectionals, he sits himself on the gurney there without having to be directed to do so. Samantha slides the curtain closed and turns to him with a practiced smile.

"Let's see what I can do for your today," she give her usual, measured comment.

Calm is always good. Tranquility is conducive to wellness. Samantha is practiced in remaining collected; she would not have found success in the Emergency Room of the city hospital if she were given quickly to hysteria.

"Ain't it obvious?"

Though she is skimming the form in her hand, Samantha sees in peripheral vision that he is gesticulating at his eye.

"Mmm, I just want to see what you told the aid," she assures him gently and reads through the answers to the questions on the paper.

His remaining eye is giving him trouble, which is certainly a good reason for him to be a priority here. It is itchy and the vision slightly foggier than it has been since the face wound healed. Neither are good signs.

"Been this way a couple days?" she verifies.

"Uh-huh"

"Alright ...and what is it that caused this in the first place?" she asks him, setting aside the form- _it has told her all it can._

She pulls out a small pen light while she waits for him to tell his story. S he knows that the light works, but it is still a reflex to press the button at the end and wave it at her palm just to be sure. When she looks away form this, Walsh's intact brow is furrowed in annoyance. Maybe with her...maybe with life in general.

"Bit of an explosion..."

Samantha raises an eyebrow at him. She's calm, sure, but she can't hide all signs of surprise from him. What was the man doing that had caused an explosion?'

"I was Dauntless," he explains, probably knowing exactly what she'd been thinking. "Worked in the armory ...I was testing some firearms. Mustta been an obstruction in the chamber cuz that shit exploded in my face."

His report is a sour one, and Samantha understands his scowl is probably more over his luck than at her for bringing it up. She looks him over again. At the glossy but still red scars. At the sturdy-looking muscle that still builds him.

"How long ago? Couple months?'

He hums and nods, confirming but not thinking more precisely over how long he'd been living this new life.

Samantha nods in response and uses the penlight in her hand to start inspecting the remaining eye. She won't dig for more details than she needs. She knows that when Dauntless members can no longer perform duties necessary to the faction, they are either killed **(sometimes they kill themselves, she's heard)** or leave the Dauntless compound to live among the Factionless. In her opinion it is a mildly barbaric practice since there is always something someone can contribute- _for instance, if she were ever hurt or when she gets too old to keep up at the hospital, she could become a teacher or perhaps do research or maybe even help in administration._ Disregarding an old member of the Faction due to frailty or injury is disrespectful to what that person has given to their community.

She knows, though, that to Dauntless there must be more disrespect in the idea of keeping someone in a strong, brave faction who is unable to fight and protect.

Upon inspection, there is no discharge from Walsh's good eye, which reacts well to her light. These are good signs. However, there are some reddish spots branching off of his iris, which he reports to her is a new development.

"What's your pain level?"

"It's hurt since the accident," he tells her lowly.

Samantha frowns in a sort of sympathy that she feels sure he doesn't actually want.

"Has the pain changed at all recently?"

"...there's a pressure behind my eye. It throbs," he reports.

He's merely stating fact; he doesn't sound in the slightest like he is complaining. In Samantha's experience, many Dauntless are often reticent to give detailed accounts of their pain. It's something they are conditioned to hide or, at the very least, downplay. Working in the Emergency Room, she has seen how this has lead to more harm than good for the faction's members: some injuries getting worse- _infected or otherwise aggravated_ \- because someone did not seek help as soon as they ought to have.

That does not seem to be the case here, though. Walsh may very well have an infection, but it hasn't gotten out of hand- _no doubt he is determined to care for his only remaining eye._ He simply doesn't want to whine on about it.

"Alright; tell you what ...I don't have all the right tools to get a good look at what's going on in there," she admits to him. "I'll get you a script for an antibiotic- it could be residual infection from all of this healing," she explains.

"That's it?" the corners of his mouth turn down.

"No. I'm going to sign you a referral to the Ophthalmology department. T hey'll have specialized equipment to make sure you keep vision in this eye," she reassures him. "Are you going to be able to get to the hospital this week?"

He nods sternly. As she thought, he'll do whatever he needs to.

"Good ...I'll go do some paperwork and get a few days worth of pills, yeah?"

He nods again, which is her dismissal.

Samantha finds her way back behind the main desk for the slips she needs in order to grant Walsh a referral. They are only to give out a certain amount of these and she'd only just written one, but eyes are a particular speciality she is not equipped to deal with here, and Walsh has suffered severe trauma to his face and needs to get the right treatment the first time around. It's a legitimate need for extra consultation.

"Alright- save this," she hands Walsh the referral slip that will be his ticket through the hospital. "Present that to the intake nurse. And here is your prescription. This is something they can fill here at their pharmacy," she jerks a thumb towards the far end of the clinic past the waiting room. "Last line to wait in for the day."

"Thanks, doc," Walsh gives one of his nods again and shoves himself forward off of the gurney to stand.

"Sure ...take care," Samantha accepts the hand that he holds out for a brief shake. "Go sooner rather than later if you can, okay?"

"Plan to"

Samantha watches him go and then heads back towards Charlotte in the triage area.

"Next?"

"Something cuter and less surly," she is handed a form again. "Cassidy Hastings- diagnosed with a placental abruption a few weeks ago and has been on bed rest. Elliot is doing an ultrasound right now- Bed Six."

"Thanks"

Samantha has to smile a little. Walsh hasn't rubbed her the wrong way he apparently had Charlotte, but she cannot deny that an expectant mother is a "cuter" option than an injured old man.

"Hello," she announces herself and then partially slides back the blue curtain to step around it. "You must be Ms. Hastings."

"This is Doctor Thorne," Elliot, who regularly works at the clinic, tells the patient while he moved the ultrasound wand over the heavily-pregnant woman in front of him.

"Hi," the blonde young woman extends a hand without hesitation for a quick shake.

"Good afternoon. How are you feeling?"

"Alright," the young woman tells her in a way that seems to be honest. "No pain like there was. I've listened to the doctors and been resting as much as I can- truly."

"Good. You're carrying twins; you deserve it ...let's check out the rest of this ultrasound and then I'll do a physical exam to see how we're doing. Yeah?"

Smiling, the pregnant blonde nods enthusiastically and turns to look at the ultrasound monitor. She won't know what she's looking for diagnostically, of course, but she will be seeing her babies on screen and that, Samantha supposes, is what will matter most for her.

"...things are looking good. I don't see bleeding," she gives a commentary as she studies the monitor herself with a more practiced eye.

"Good," the mother-to-be's voice is breathy in its relief. "I know I'm being paranoid coming in for so many check-ups..."

"Not at all. You should be vigilant," Samantha offers her a grin. "Besides, you're giving me a break from deep infections and smelly abscesses."

This seems to set the woman at ease and assuage misplaced guilt, so Samantha moves on and begins a physical exam.

"...I would stick with the bed rest, though. Don't take this as an all-clear and permission to ease up on that. Twins are often born early; you don't want to increase your chances for preterm labor."

"Right," the woman's green eyes are bright and her face, though a little dirty, is alert as she drinks in what the doctor has to say. "I will."

"Good. Make sure you come straight back here if you experience pain in your abdomen or lower back. Definitely come in or send for a medic if you're bleeding at all..."

"I w-"

Cassidy does not have the chance to finish what Samantha is sure will be a pledge to follow these orders. There is shuffling out in the lobby and then several successive blasts rent the air to drown-out the other woman.

Glass shatters.

People are screaming.

Samantha's heart stops.

It takes her a bewildered moment to decide that what she is hearing is gunfire.

"Down, down, down..." she hisses.

Elliot had frozen at the commotion as well, but, at Samantha's words, he helps her usher Cassidy off of the table to curl down onto the ground. Elliot leaves a hand pressed on her back to keep her down, and Samantha, heart now hammering, upturns the gurney on its side so they all can huddle behind it.

The gun fire ceases, but the shouting continues and there is the commotion of movement throughout the clinic. Samantha eases toward the blue curtain; she is scared to disturb it, but she lowers herself flatter to the ground so she can look under it.

"Down! Keep down!"

"Get down!"

She sees several other people crouched down around chairs or laying flat on the floor while a small group runs about. They all wear muted clothes, which are patched and dirty ...Factionless. Some are rushing behind the front desk, others darting towards the small pharmacy.

Looting.

Samantha has heard of this happening before, though never like this- _at least, as not as far as she knows._ The clinic used to be a victim of break-ins, but that had previously taken place at night. Dauntless used to guard the clinic because of this but had become lax when thefts attempts waned. Perhaps these people know that there are more medications at the clinic on physician days _\- the kind that the regular medics and assistants manning the place cannot prescribe-_ so they choose this time to be bold.

Samantha is trying to keep an eye on them, but her eyes are distracted by the sight of bright red blood. It stains the clothing of a familiar frame- s _he cannot see his face, but she knows that it is Walsh_.

Shit.

Her instinct is to go to him- _someone needs to put pressure on the wound_. Is is a through-and-through? Is there a bullet still lodged in him? What if an artery is severed? Would this be a wound they could treat here at the clinic or would they have to rush him into the hospital? Would he **make it** to a hospital?

She feels like she's in the emergency room, where she's seen her fair share of traumas. There is a certain sort of headspace you slip into during moments of crisis; something that is a mix of knowledge and instinct - _a blend of the two that you learn to trust._

The only problem is that Samantha is sure that moving across the room will get her shot. Personal danger has never been an element of her work. She's not sure if she's supposed to listen to her fear and stay put or ignore it and run to the wounded man. She does not have previous experience to pull from to tell her what to do.

Lost, she remains frozen.

She feels like she is laying on the cool floor for hours, but she counts her breaths and knows that the intruders are in and out in a matter of a few minutes.

Shouting pulls her from her fearful revere.

Once the trespassers' feet retreat out of the building, people inside are shouting to each other to check on one another's safety. A short, trim man with cropped gray hair darts into her line of vision and drops to the ground next to Walsh. It's Mark Sherman, another doctor who'd come to the clinic today.

Her coworker.

She needs to help.

Samantha shoves herself to her feet to join them, sliding to the tiled floor at Walsh's other side and ignoring the way that the shattered glass digs into her knees

"...just a graze," Mark reports as he holds pressure to the leg wound.

" 'M fine," Walsh groans.

"You're lucky is what you are ...I saw what you did for those women..."

"S'nuthin."

"...what'd you do?" Samantha cannot help that she is curious; it is in her very nature.

"He pushed women out of the way from the windows," Mark supplies when the ex-Dauntless does not rush to tell his story. "You saw them coming?"

"...worked round guns most of my life," Walsh mutters. "Guess it's instinct t' notice 'em."

"Let's get him up, Samantha"

Samantha nods and dutifully slips her hand behind Walsh's shoulder to help sit him up. She then hooks an arm under his to help him to his feet while Dr. Sherman keeps a firm press onto the wounded man's thigh. Together, they lead him to a curtained area to get him a seat.

"I'll get you sutured up and you'll be good as new."

"Thanks ...can we make it quick, doc?"

"Of course," Dr. Sherman confirms in his no-nonsense way.

"I'll leave you do it."

Sutures are not a job he will need assistance for, so Samantha takes her leave. She surveys the waiting room and then immediately cuts her eyes to the bed area she had been working in when the gunfire started. Elliot is there with a now-straightened gurney and a flustered, blonde Cassidy.

"Ms. Hastings," Samantha hurries back to them again. "You're alright?"

"I guess," the Factionless woman's voice is a little higher than it had been previously. "I mean ...yeah. I think so?"

"Let's get you back on the table and get the ultrasound going again. Just to be sure, alright?"

The mother looks relieved and accepts Elliot's assistance back onto the table after he closes-off the curtain again. Samantha takes a deep breath and channels her focus onto the screen once the images of Cassidy's womb appears on the black and white screen.

"... ... ...things look the same. I still don't see any bleeding. Why don't you rest here for a while? Elliot will check your blood pressure once you've had some time to relax before you go. Okay?"

"Mmhmm..."

Samantha slips through the curtain into the wrecked lobby, where she is immediately met by Claire, who squeezes her elbow.

"Glad you're okay"

The blonde smiles in return.

"You too?"

"Mmhmm- nothing serious. Scrapes are the worst of it ...a couple vitals machines were hit and ruined, but everyone's fine. Defies logic, " Claire reports, eyes wide.

"Definitely," Samantha agrees and recalls the cold fear that had pulsed through her when she'd seen Walsh bleeding and assumed the worst.

If his is the worst injury, they are beyond lucky.

"Unless they weren't aiming at anyone," Claire continues to think aloud.

"...they just wanted to scare us?" Samantha catches on to her line of reasoning.

"It makes sense if all they wanted to do was rip the place off. Ted's checking the pharmacy," she glances over her shoulder. "They just scared everyone into getting out of the way..."

Samantha considers this and thinks that the brunette's theory is sound. No one here is armed, so the Factionless burglars could have done some very serious damage if they'd wanted to.

"You might be right."

"Well, I'll leave the crime theories to Dauntless- they're on their way. Someone already called."

This follows reason. Dauntless are the law enforcement in the city; they will come secure the area and see what can be done. Rowdy though the Dauntless are sometimes known to be, it is reassuring to know envoys are on their way.

But no one is there yet and there is work to do, so they cannot continue to stand around waiting. The doctors move through the waiting room, where volunteers are sweeping away glass and righting chairs for people to sit in. It seems that Claire is correct and the majority of injuries are minor scrapes and contusions. A few people do have cuts that need to be flushed and sutured, so the doctors pull them aside to place stitches while the volunteers clean and wrap the more superficial wounds.

There is a shout outside when two Dauntless trucks pull up, and Samantha looks round to see armed members hopping out of the backs. All are clad in black. A few head off to patrol the street, a couple others station themselves to stand vigil outside the door, and a handful more spill inside. Two stand guard to either side of the main door and the last three continue in to look around. Ted hurries to meet them and hold council, which Samantha tries not to pay attention to because she's a little busy and needs to focus.

"Alright, listen up!" a voice shouts, which does finally pull all of her attention away from the boy in front of her and to a burly man with dark skin and trimmed facial hair. "My name's Max. We're securing the area as we speak. We are gonna need statements- we want to talk to management and doctors first, then we'll speak with volunteers. No one leaves until they've spoken with us," he declares, gesturing to himself and the man and woman beside him.

"For anyone who works here," the blonde man at Max's left pipes up, "check your belongings. Find out if anything is missing so we'll have a list of what was taken."

There is a murmur of compliance and the three who seem to be running the show move forward to start interviewing witnesses. Samantha had not missed that this Max- _a leader, she was certain_ \- had not listed patients among those he wants to interview at this time. Either the opinion of the Factionless is that far below his notice or they are all suspect at this point ...maybe a mixture of the two reasons.

Everyone else continues on with their work, though the place remains quieter than it had been before the attack. There is no white-noise of genial conversation in the lobby; no one seems casual or comfortable now.

"Can I go now?"

Samantha looks around at a familiar voice. Anthony DeCarlo is talking to one of the Dauntless with his hands outstretched in an inpatient way.

"I told you what I saw- I'd like to go now."

"You can talk to your own boss about that," the broad, blonde man before him says in a bored fashion before scribbling something on a notepad in his hand.

"Great. I didn't sign up for this," the doctor hisses before moving off to talk to Dr. Sherman who is the senior-most doctor on sight today.

Samantha frowns after him. Anthony had been in her initiate class; he is a good doctor but is being a little unreasonable. The threat is gone, now, and has not changed the job that they are there to do. She assumes, perhaps unfairly, that he will become one of the doctors who trades off their Clinic rotations to others- _many physicians do so if they find the opportunity._

"Dr. Thorne," the blonde approaches her, now, where she is finally signing-off on Cassidy Hastings' chart.

She gives him a quick smile so that he knows she heard before handing the young woman back her entry form

"You'll have to wait until patients are allowed to leave ...make sure you get a chair and are able to relax. Otherwise, find Elliot or me."

"Will do."

The woman smiles widely despite how this day has gone, and Samantha has a hunch that she may once have belonged to Amity. She wonders what made her leave, or what faction she had tried and failed to join.

"And stay on bed rest when you get home," Samantha orders, hoping that this woman does not literally sleep on the streets like some of the more forlorn Factionless folks.

"Don't worry. I will."

"Alright. Have a good afternoon."

"You, too. Thank you so much."

The woman lowers herself to her feet and clasps Samantha's hand warmly before passing her by. The Dauntless man who is dutifully waiting with his arms behind his back steps back silently to let the patient pass. **He** does not get a smile from the pregnant lady, who keeps her eyes down as she eases past him and hurries to the lobby.

"Hi," Samantha greets him, hands in her lab coat.

"Alright, tell me what you saw and who you saw," he doesn't waste time getting straight to the point.

"Well, I was here at this same bed when the windows broke," she recalls. "The curtain was pulled so I didn't see anything at first; we just flipped the gurney and got our patient down behind it."

The man nods, glancing at the number label on the wall that indicates which exam area they're at.

"Who was with you?" his jaw is taut- annoyed.

"The pregnant woman you just saw and Elliot- he's one of the assistants who regularly works here."

The blonde man scribbles this down.

"What else did you see?"

"Eric," someone interrupts- _it's the nameless woman with long dark dreadlocks who'd stood with Max earlier_. "You're talking to the last doctor and Max is finishing up with some of Ted's regulars; I'm moving on to patients. Join me when you're finished."

Eric- _this blonde Dauntless_ \- gives a tight nod to the instructions and watches the woman move towards the volunteers who'd been keeping the waiting room organized. Samantha, however, is staring at him closely, now. She had not given him much thought, but ...she **knows** this profile. It is different today- _harder and more defined_. He is larger, both in height and width, and dressed in all black, but the name brings it all together.

"Eric..." she grins a little, which she hopes masks her utter surprise.

"Hey Sam," he greets flatly, eyes snapping their attention straight back to her.

Erudite was never a faction big on nicknames, but Eric had never been meant for Erudite despite the faction of his birth. He'd always done as he pleased.

"You weren't going to say anything?" she raises an eyebrow.

He'd obviously had the benefit of knowing her full name on that little tablet of his, but he had not greeted her with any sort of familiarity.

"Figured you'd get there on your own."

Fair enough- _she had, after all_.

"Wow ...I'd ask how you are," she glances towards Max across the room, "but I guess you're in leadership so you must be doing well."

He slowly nods. His lips twitch- _in pleasure, she thinks_ \- but his face remains schooled.

"I'd ask how **you** are, but you're in this shit hole so you must not have been at the top of your know-it-all class," he returns easily.

He has always been sarcastic, and Samantha finds that the return to such an exchange is not truly offensive. She simply scoffs at him lightly.

"We take turns covering the clinic, as I'm sure you know," is her simple, prim response.

His blue eyes roll high in their sockets.

"So did you see anything else?"

Right.

"Oh ...yeah, I watched from under the curtain. People broke into the pharmacy"- _she glances towards it_ \- "and ransacked the work desk. I could tell they were dressed like Factionless, but I was on the floor so I didn't see any faces. And I was distracted ..there was someone bleeding on the floor so I was watching him," she justifies herself, feeling like her information is perfectly useless.

"Alright ...anything missing?"

"Yes, my tablet is gone. I had it stored behind the desk."

He makes a note of that.

"Anything on that they'll find useful?"

"I have access to medical records from it, but it's password protected," she explains.

"Something easy to get around?" Eric frowns.

"...maybe for some people. You'd need to have some updated technology, I think. It would probably be easier to wipe everything off of it and just have it as a new tablet."

"Mmm...I'll ask some of our guys in Control about that- they have some of your tech in there. Is it identifiable?"

"It's hospital issue, so it has the logo on the back. You can't remove it."

Eric knows the circle and cross symbol that she means, so he makes a last note.

"Anything else?"

Samantha considers what she'd seen but thinks that she's told Eric everything relevant that she knows- _which isn't much_. She remembers the way her hands had trembled while she laid on the ground, and she clasps them together now unconsciously.

"No, I don't think so"

Eric glanced at her hands and then up at her face again.

"Okay...thanks. Carry on," he waves carelessly.

Samantha's brows pop up and back down quickly in surprise, but then she gives a small shrug.

"Alright. Nice seeing you, too, Coulter," she bids him farewell half-truthfully - _she understands that he's at work, but he doesn't need to be short with her_.

"Don't-" he snaps quickly and a little loudly before pausing and clenching his jaw. "Don't call me that."

Samantha's eyes widen slightly in alarm at his swift anger before she nods her understanding.

"Okay," she confirms.

With that, he walks away to join his colleague interrogating patients on what they'd seen and who they may have recognized.

Undeterred, she resolves to focus on continuing her work. She finds Claire at the front desk to try to figure out how patient flow is working, now. They've treated those who needed help after the attack, and now they need to return to the patients who'd been waiting prior to that. However, the system is thrown off, now- _some people had ducked out after the shooting, and they're trying to figure out who is left._ This is also hindered by the Dauntless who are trying to do their own work- _they're demanding a list of people who hadn't stuck around and are insisting that patients stay where they are in the waiting room until they've been interviewed._

Ted is trying to restore a working order to the process, so the two women give themselves a few minutes to take a seat and get off their feet. Neither speak for the moment; neither had not realized how much they need a break until they've taken one.

It's been a long day. Samantha had been there since opening- _lab coat on and ready to go_ \- with the intention of getting out at a descent time ...she doubts that will happen, now. Patients had been waiting outside before the doors even opened, so they've been busy from the get go.

As she considers her morning, something occurs to her and she hops back to her feet.

"Samantha?" Claire jerks from her own revere.

The blonde doesn't answer but rounds the desk and moves straight across the waiting room towards Eric. His back is turned to her while he converses with Max near some unoccupied patient chairs.

"Eric... ...hey," she reaches for his elbow, but he twists suddenly when her fingers touch his coat and she rears back, startled.

He looks her over for a moment.

"Yeah?"

"I was just thinking and remembered something. I'm..." she trails off for a moment and rubs at the back of her neck because the hard way he is staring at her is unnerving, "not sure if it means anything..."

"No such thing as too much information," Max manages to be warmer, flashing a bright smile. "Dr..."

"Thorne," Eric answers for her. "I talked to her earlier."

"Right, and it didn't strike me as important, but ...this morning a woman came in and wanted me to make a house call. She said her neighbor was sick, that she'd had pneumonia and wasn't feeling well enough to come back."

"Did you go?" Eric glares.

"No- we don't leave the clinic. She seemed really upset, but I didn't feel comfortable wandering around," she waved her hand towards the doors. "So I told her that I couldn't."

"She stick around?'

"No. I told her she should talk to Thaddeus, that sometimes his volunteers are willing to make house calls to check-up on patients who've been in..."

"He didn't mention anything," Max mutters and scans the room for the manager. "She take you up on that?"

"No, she wasn't interested and left," Samantha shrugs.

The two Dauntless men share a look.

"Would you recognize her if you saw her again?" Eric checks.

"Yeah. I talked to her for a minute or two, so I think I would," she decides.

"Describe her," Eric presses.

"Short dark hair. Taller than me. Older than me, I think- sometimes it's hard to guess when they're a little too thin. She was crying- she had dark eyes," she remembers.

"Thanks ...we'll ask around when we case the area," Max nods thoughtfully.

Samantha nods, rubbing at her neck again and feeling a little bad about selling-out a woman who may simply be a good neighbor.

"She might've been telling the truth," she feels compelled to add. "No one's asked me to do a house call before, though, so ...it just sticks out, now."

"Sure," Max agrees. "We'll look into it."

"Thanks," Eric mutters.

He no longer looks annoyed but doesn't seem genuinely grateful, either, she thinks. It's hard to say- _she doesn't know him anymore_.

"Of course; I-"

She jerks when she finds her forearm in someone's grip.

"Doctor, will we still be seen? No one's saying anything," a man demands.

Before Samantha can open her mouth with any kind of answer or reassurance, the man's hand is yanked from her by a larger grip.

"Hands off," Eric spits and releases him with a small push. "You sit your ass down and wait your turn," he points sternly to a seat.

Samantha swallows thickly.

"We're still seeing patients," she adds her confirmation, for Dauntless may have the city authority but the doctors have the say there.

The weathered man glares at all three of them but does as Eric had commanded and takes a seat in silence.

"Have fun with that," Eric scoffs.

Samantha opens her mouth to say something about having an obligation to the patients who'd shown up for help, but her eyes are caught on Walsh once again. He is standing near the front desk, slightly hunched toward Ted and in an apparently urgent conversation as his arm gesticulates widely. She suddenly thinks she understands why he'd wanted Dr. Sherman to hurry with his stitches- _he had wanted to leave before members of his ex-faction arrived._ Now it is too late, and the Dauntless have locked the place down.

The men take note of her distraction and look round to follow her gaze.

"... ...that's..." Max begins.

"Yeah," Eric's tone is clipped, having reached the same answer as the other leader just as quickly.

Neither man looks particularly pleased.

"...he was a patient this morning," Samantha explains in case they are angry or suspicious to see him; both men look back round to her. "He was waiting on a prescription I gave him when they attacked. He pushed some women out of the way and Dr. Sherman had to give him some stitches."

The men share a look and then stare back at the oblivious Walsh who is still deep in discussion with Ted.

"...go tell them it's alright," Max announces, cutting a look to Eric. "He can go."

When Eric meets his superior's eyes, it is with a fresh glare. His face it taught. He does not want to do the thing that's being asked of him, simple though it may seem. His jaw works but his mouth does not open, and he eventually stomps away with a grunt.

"He's had a long day," Max chuckles, looking back at Samantha again.

"Tell me about it"

Max's smile falters a little, but only for a moment.

"Touche ...thanks for the info, Dr. Thorne. We appreciate it. We'll let you know if we have more questions."

"Of course."

He pats her shoulder in what might be a reassuring way but doesn't stick around to chat about it. He moves on with Eric to keep asking questions.

Samantha watches for a second and then goes to find Charlotte and Thaddeus to see which patients are ready to be seen, now.

A long day, indeed.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 coming soon.**

 **Let me know what you think :)**


	2. Ch 2 - Partnership

**2\. Partnership  
_**

"Dr. Thorne. Thank you for joining us."

Samantha nods respectfully to Daniel Free, the hospital's Director. He is seated at the head of a dark wood conference table, and it is no surprise to see him- s _he is not often in meetings with him, but he had been the one to call this gathering._

It **does** nearly give her pause to see Max, the surly Dauntless leader, seated to the left of Dr. Free; beside him is the unnamed woman with the dark dreadlocks who had been at the Abnegation clinic a few weeks ago after the attack. Sat next to her is Eric. Each of these three are silent.

She has no desire to appear surprised in front of guests and make her cluelessness evident, so she shows no reaction and moves along the table to take her own seat.

"Good morning," she greets Michael and pulls out a chair beside him before setting her tablet carefully on the table in front of her.

"Good to see you," he glances up from his own electronic tablet to smile at his protege.

"Did you just find out about this meeting last night?" she mutters.

"No."

He's a little self-satisfied about his answer, which is annoying but, she supposes, also a little amusing. She would probably be more offended if she thought something was going to be kept form her _\- such is against the Erudite way_. As it is, answers are looking imminent.

"When?" she grins back.

"Last week."

Samantha rolls her eyes and settles in. She gazes around the room and takes note of who else enters. It is not a large group and she knows most of the doctors filing in, if only by their faces being familiar. There are a few general practitioners she's seen around, and a surgeon she's worked with in the ER before sidles in casually with an older woman. The other small handful are unknown to her.

They are a strange assembly of doctors, which is almost as curious at the presence of the Dauntless.

Samantha's eyes flit back to the dark trio, and she flinches faintly when she finds Eric's steely eyes are staring down the table at her. To cover the startled moment, she holds his gaze until it feels unseemly and then slowly surveys the room again. When she dares to glance back again, he is looking away with his head tilted down towards the woman at his left.

She's not sure what he meant by the look, if anything- _maybe she's paranoid?_

She can't help it. She finds Eric thoroughly wrong-footing these days.

 **_._**

 _"Thorne!"_

 _Samantha did not immediately look up at the summons. She was busy with some discharge orders to get patient flow moving and open up some beds. She didn't recognize the voice as a colleague, so whatever the person wanted could wait a moment._

 _"Hey; I'm talkin' to you..."_

 _A hand slapped down on the counter next to where she stood to write, causing her to jump. The hand was large and wide, but, undaunted, she twisted with a tight glare in her eyes._

 _The look faltered into surprise when she saw that the face she had to look up into belonged to Eric Coulter. Or, as he'd preferred when she saw him three days previous: just Eric_.

 _She took him in: tall and broad and clothed in a black t-shirt that showed off various tattoos. It was not as though Dauntless were never present in the hospital -_ ** _indeed, they were often prone to injury_** _\- but he still looked somehow out of place. She didn't want to stare stupidly, however, so she recovered herself and returned to the moment._

 _"I heard. I was in the middle of something..."_

 _"I saw," he admitted without contrition._

 _He also didn't go on right away, so Samantha turned curtly back to her work. She did not wish to reward his rudeness with more attention than he deserved by begging answers out of him._

 _"Seriously?"_

 _She glanced up again and saw a scowl._

 _"You haven't told me how I can help you," she informed him._

 _He exhaled slow and deep through his nose and clenched his jaw for a moment._

 _"I have a job for you."_

 _"Are you hurt?" she asked, suddenly mildly curious._

 _"No."_

 _He smirked and turned his body outward slightly, which invited her gaze to move past him. There, she saw a tall young man with shaggy dark hair standing a foot or so behind Eric's shoulder._

 _"Hello..." she looked him over for injury, too, but saw nothing._

 _Unsure what brought them to the ER at all, she looked back to Eric. The look she found there seemed to suggest he knew he had gained the upper hand by capturing her interest._

 _"This is Terrance," Eric introduced in a smarmy way. "He's from Amity"_ ** _-as if she could not tell form his dress-_** _"and he enjoys art."_

 _"...okay."_

 _He smirked anew at the idea that she hadn't caught on just yet. Samantha wasn't sure why he wouldn't just ask if he wanted something, why he insisted on some sort of battle of wills._

 _"Eric," she sighed. "What?"_

 _Her curiosity was piqued, but she was busy._

 _"He's a good artist. We want you to describe that woman from the clinic," he finally explained, seeming pleased that she gave in and asked. "We're having trouble finding leads- there's a lot of tall, scrawny ladies with dark hair running around factionless."_

 _Aha._

 _Samantha nodded slowly in understanding and knew this to be true enough. She was the one who'd mentioned to Eric that most of the factionless had an under-fed look about them._

 _"Do you think people don't know who you're asking about or they just don't want to help?"_

 _Living outside of the faction system, it was common knowledge that many of them did not pay great respect to the city authority held by Dauntless. Though the protectors did break up some warring between the disenfranchised, they sometimes did so with a ruthlessness that did not charm them to the Factionless. It was a bit of a vicious cycle, which showed itself in moments like these when Dauntless investigated anything to do with the Factionless areas of the city and did not receive much help._

 _"Both."_

 _Samantha thought about that. It was too bad, really. Whatever their reasons, the thieves had attacked a facility meant to serve their fellows, and she thought any Factionless who had an idea of what happened would be wise to tell what they knew._

 _"Do you have somewhere you can sit with him to give him a description?" Eric returned to the topic at hand._

 _"...now?"_

 _"Yeah. When you wanna do it- next year?"_

 _"I'm in the middle of a shift," Samantha waved a hand around._

 _"Call it a lunch break."_

 _Samantha squared her shoulders towards him, annoyed. He did not have explicit authority there to barge in and make her stop what she was doing. However, this was important..._

 _"Let me finish these and we can use the break room," she decided._

 _She completed and signed-off on the charts she'd been working on and handed them off to a nurse to complete the discharge process._

 _"Come on..."_

 _She led them to a staff room with a kitchenette and a few small, round tables. She and Terrance, the Amity artist, sat down side by side to talk while Eric hung back leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He said nothing while Samantha spoke to Terrance, who asked a few questions but otherwise worked quietly with a pleasant look to his face. His long, slender fingers held a pencil that he moved deftly about and began to form a face that was familiar to her. She was in awe of his precision and told him so even as she had to re-describe the nose because something wasn't quite right about the woman._

 _"Thank you."_

 _A wide but lazy smile spread across Terrance's face, and he continued to sketch until his picture was to Samantha's satisfaction._

 **_._**

She had done her part that day, and Eric had gotten what he needed. So why does it seem like he's still in a battle with her?

"That should be everyone," Dr. Daniel Free finally announces, sitting up straight in his chair.

Samantha forgets her musings and focuses her attention on the lead physician.

"I'm glad you could all manage your schedules to make it. I will try to be brief- I know some of you have tight agendas to maintain," he nods specifically to the two surgeons at the table. "I won't keep you. First, for those of you who haven't met: this is Max; he is one of the senior leaders in Dauntless. With him are Vanessa and Eric, two other leaders on his team."

Max gives an amiable wave and his partners nod; they are met with a polite chorus of soft greetings.

"I am sure by now that all of you have heard about the _incident_ at the Abnegation clinic a few weeks back. I know the news spread quickly and, of course, some of our own were there to help handle the situation..."

He extends a hand towards where Samantha and Michael are seated, giving some credit where credit was due.

"Dr. Sherman was our lead physician at the clinic during the disturbance, so he has maintained regular contact with Max- as well as Ted- to keep abreast of the situation and give any further aid Erudite could offer."

Samantha had not been aware of that, but a glance to Michael gives nothing away; he simply nods solemnly to acknowledge Dr. Free's comment.

"Besides the investigation, most of their meetings have focused on what may have been lacking at the clinic to allow a security breach such as this. In addition, what could be needed in the future to avoid more chaos? As we are always striving to improve anything we do, I applaud both parties for the efforts that have been made to cross Faction lines and work as allies..."

A general murmur of agreement goes around the table.

"Dauntless has agreed to update security at the clinic and increase patrols in the area. Furthermore, there will be Dauntless guards at the clinic on days when our physicians are working. Our presence means more drugs and other supplies that would be valuable to those living amongst the Factionless, which potentially makes the clinic a more alluring target."

"Pardon, Dr. Free," one of the practitioners raises a hand. "Or perhaps this is a question better posed to you, Max," she is not hesitant to query to the faction head. "Is this merely precautionary, or have the attackers not been caught?"

"Unfortunately, no, we haven't found who broke in."

Many attendees shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"We're not getting much information from the rest of the factionless- patients who were there or anyone who lives in the area."

"But they attacked a clinic that is a charity to them," another doctor voices in annoyance. "It's impractical to protect someone who would do that."

"We were hoping that, too, so we haven't stopped digging," Max leans forward to rest his forearms on the edge of the table. "Now, it's possible this was some fringe group and most people really don't know them, but we are leaning towards the idea that they're ...closing ranks, you might say."

"Loyalty ...to being non-faction?"

"In a way," Max shrugs. "We more often find that it's individual defiance of the faction system that keeps them from talking to us."

"So how certain are you that you'll find out who was behinds this?" the same woman who had interrupted Dr. Free gets straight to the heart of what she'd wanted to know.

"We don't make promises," Max is frank. "But we do have a few leads ...sketches from witnesses of a couple of the men who broken in that day, as well as of a woman who may have been helping them," he glances down towards Samantha.

"They also made the mistake of stealing noticeable items," Eric speaks up. "The drugs they took aren't something they could have gotten anywhere else, and the tech they lifted is distinctive. Things they can't hide."

"As long as someone speaks up," one of the older doctors scoffs. "Be plain: we'll never know who did this."

Eric's head swivels his way so fast it's surprising the joints don't audibly crick.

"And who're you?"

"Dr. Patrick Felder. Neurologist," he doesn't miss a beat even in the face of the Dauntless's hard stare.

Enough arrogance could give you the ability to stare down that look.

"Eric, that's enough," Max sighs.

The blond does not protest being redirected, but nor does the sour look completely drain from his face. The image of a dog being reigned into a shorter leash springs to Samantha's mind.

"It is an intense topic to be sure," Dr. Free tries to segue but does cast the neurologist in question a disapproving look. "We all desire safety, after al... which is our point of being here. In the discussions that have taken place regarding how the Dauntless can help us do our part for the city, naturally came the topic of what we as Erudite can offer to aid Dauntless in _their_ job of protectors of our city - turnabout being fair play and all.

"Dr. Sherman has had some intensive talks with Max about medical care at the Dauntless compound and the efficiency with which they work and what their capabilities and limitations are. Max, would you like to share with the group?"

"Our infirmary is a bit of a revolving door- we check 'em out and either patch 'em up to go home or send them across the city to you. We have medics who can do some superficial stitches, set dislocations and some fractures, and check for signs of concussion, but that's as serious as it gets. We don't have X-Rays or scans, and they don't have particularly extensive training beyond the First Aid that everyone gets- their first job is always security."

"About what percent of patients end up being sent on to be seen here?" Samantha asks, tapping her tablet on.

"That data is still being collected," Michael answers beside her

"Of course."

"A descent amount," Vanessa offers a less-precise and more-Dauntless answer. "I'm sure it's no surprise to anyone that members of our faction don't always seek medical attention right away..."

There's some snickering around the room.

"Something we are trying to change," Max overrides her joking smoothly. "It isn't uncommon for a minor injury to become more serious because someone doesn't want to admit how much pain they're in- that's true- but it's a habit we'd like to break. We can't afford someone being out of commission longer than necessary."

"Ego," someone at the table mutters.

Max just smirks.

"We've got plenty of that."

"You aren't the only ones," Dr. Free laughs along.

There's some more genial chuckling around the room.

"So," the senior physician leans forward, rubbing his aged but skilled hands together. "We want to assist in their infirmary. Fully trained doctors on-site can assist their medics or take over when they are called to their primary jobs. Ideally, we will be able to start by helping set up a more efficient flow for their medical center, update some of their technology, and offer some further training to the medical staff they do have. Our long term goal will be reducing the number of referrals they have to send out here, hopefully by cutting-down on illness and injury becoming serious due to lack of treatment.

"We are looking for volunteers," he continues. "I won't force anyone away from their demanding schedules for an experimental venture, though I hope you can all see the importance of making this work."

"Erudite will be welcome?" Dr. Felder speaks freely again- _always bold_.

It is not an outlandish question, Samantha thinks. Though Dauntless and Erudite have a historically neutral relationship- _unlike, say, Erudite and Abnegation leadership-_ the Dauntless compound is not known as a welcoming place. It is hard to get to and, generally, they like it that way.

"Completely. That will be enforced," Max promises.

Eric's sneer towards the doctor does not hold as much reassurance. He clearly hasn't let go of the older man's perceived impudence.

"We foresee an amiable relationship. We are to be there as colleagues, not bosses," Dr. Free explains. "Likewise, you are held to the Erudite hierarchy, not theirs. This is meant to be an mutual exchange for their increasing security in and around the clinic."

"Better yet- don't make us take on clinic duty," Dr. Eastway- _surgeon_ \- proposes, lip curled.

"Don't expect us to believe you take your clinic duty seriously," Samantha tosses down the table.

He only shrugs, still grinning.

He is not the only doctor who trades-off his clinic duty when he can. The hospital assigns rotating clinic duty to nearly all doctors on staff- _the only exceptions being heads of departments_ \- but does not demand that the staff adhere strictly to said calendar. So long as a doctor finds someone else to fill any shift they do not want to take, no one minds. Administration only cares that shifts are covered, not who works them. Many doctors claim to be too busy or openly think the clinic is below their level of expertise. Others, Samantha among them, think it is simply part of their job and should be taken as seriously as any other duty since they had taken an oath to provide equal medical care to any patient.

"That's enough," Dr. Free sighs again- _the last thing he needs right now is his doctors slinging around insults about chop-shops and carpenters to hash-out whose job is more vital_. "Our Dr. Sherman has agreed to head up the venture since he has been liaising with Max and making some plans already. Dr. Thorne" - _Samantha is surprised to be mentioned specifically_ \- "was suggested by Max as a candidate since she kept her head at the clinic and was willing to provide needed information. The rest of you are candidates I selected from various field who I thought may want to lend their expertise."

Samantha looks down the table to catch Max's eye - _in thanks? she's not quite sure-_ but he's not looking her way. She does catch Eric's stare, which is as hard and piercing as it ever seems lately.

She looks back to Dr. Free as he goes on.

"...I don't need answers today, of course. Consider your schedules and how much you're willing for them to change- a day a week depending on what size group we can get started on this. Think of what you can contribute. Please, come to me or Dr. Sherman with any questions. Max, will you and your leaders be accessible for questions?"

"Definitely," the man confirms.

"What does the City Council think of this?" GP Carrie Quinnan asks, mildly dubious.

That catches everyone's attention. The Council supports peace and cooperation between factions, but it generally also wants to have some measure of oversight in most things.

"They're favorable," Max seems pleased to answer. "They're in favor of us scratching each other's backs..."

"Jeanine, in particular, is keen to see how a reciprocal affiliation may grow between our factions," Dr. Free adds.

And this explains a majority of the motivation for getting this initiative off the ground so quickly. If Jeanine Matthews is watching, there is reason to hop into action. Dr. Free has aspirations beyond the hospital itself, and this is probably great timing for him. Samantha thinks that she can't blame him for pouncing on the opportunity for a joint venture he can organize.

"Then it's decided," Dr. Eastway says with finality.

"No," Dr. Freeman insists. "You are not obligated to take a role with this- only do so if you can dedicate the time and effort."

The assembled doctors look between one another for some long, quiet moments. Samantha glances at Michael, but he looks perfectly at ease- _he's already made the choice to be a lead on this_. She understands everyone else's hesitation. This job may bring them attention in the eyes of their director and the faction leader, but it will not be ground-breaking work that will advance them in the medical field.

"Like I said," the Director speaks up again, "take your time with this. I will check in with each of you."

With that announcement, he stands, which invites them all to leave. Max and his fellows quickly rise to shake his hand. Perhaps they intend to make their exit swiftly, but some of the doctors also move closer to talk with them and ask questions.

"Was this your idea?" Samantha twists to look at Michael.

The other doctor sighs but otherwise still looks relaxed.

"I saw what was coming," he tells her. "If we owe them a favor for the added security, how else will we repay them but to bulk up their medical acumen? We may as well do so on our terms and be the ones to plan it."

"Logical...do you want me to join you?"

"I welcome it, but that's up to you."

"Dr. Freeman really isn't going to put pressure on anyone?" Samantha raises a skeptical brow.

If Jeanine is behind this, she nearly always devises a way to get what she wants.

"I don't believe so, though I'm sure if he has to he will remind you that it is no small thing that Max mentioned you by name. Jeanine no doubt may have noticed."

"...no pressure, though," the blonde grins.

Michael shrugs his shoulders.

"You enjoy your work. If there's no reason to disrupt that, then don't bother."

"But?"

"But new things stretch us," he says simply.

"Hmmm..."

Samantha drums her fingers on the edge of the table. The project interests her, if for no other reason than it has many unknown elements that catch her curiosity. But, as the surgeons in attendance had pointed out: there is little prestige to be expected. She will need to weigh the pros and cons.

"I'll consult with you later."

"See you soon," Michael accepts her farewell without protest.

While Samantha takes her things and pushes in her chair to go, he stands, too, and goes to join Dr. Free and the Dauntless leaders in a show of solidarity. Samantha does not have last questions or parting words for them, so she only gives Max and Vanessa a small smile and wave before stepping out the door. Eric is not with them, so she supposes that he let himself out as soon as possible while she was talking to Michael.

Once she is in the hallway, she sees that he has not escaped very far. He is several yards away down the pristine hallway, standing at the top of the stairs to gaze down into the window-lined foyer below. In his all-black attire with his rigid shoulders and hands clasped behind his back he does not appear inviting. This should account for why no one from the meeting had chosen to stop and bend his ear with questions.

Samantha plans to do the same. She even turns in the opposite direction, but then her feet falter and she turns back towards him.

Why not?

He'd felt bold enough to approach her in her workplace without preamble. If anyone should feel comfortable or in control here, it should be her.

So she heads straight for him.

He hears her and twists his head towards her before she reaches him.

"Afternoon," she greets.

His eyes flick down over her and back up quickly. He nods a hello.

"...you don't look happy about all of this," she tilts her head towards the conference room behind them.

"You think I should be?" he dares her, his eyes narrowed.

That glower seems to be a favored weapon of his, but she does her damnedest to ignore it. They are only eyes- _a harmless organ, really_.

"It doesn't seem like a bad idea," she tells him truthfully.

"Of course you'd say that," he sneers.

"And what do you have against better medical care?" She leans a hip on the banister beside them.

His eye twitches at that.

"Always think you're better..." he mutters.

As they've hardly seen each other in over six years, she assumes that he means Erudite as a whole.

"...I think the superiority of our medical care was already objectively established."

She swears, then, that Eric growls.

"I left this goddamn place for a reason..."

"Ah," Samantha nods.

She sees what's troubling in this to him, and there isn't much she can say to negate this. He'd hated his life there- _he'd never fit in much back in school_. Erudite did not fit him, and now Erudite was being thrown back into his life.

"Jesus, shut up," he mutters.

She quirks a thin eyebrow but doesn't say anything right away. She supposes telling him that it will be fine is pacifying and childish. Assuring him that they meant no harm was probably just as pointless. She's not sure what she _should_ tell him. Samantha guesses that nothing will make what he is feeling go away anyway, so any platitude would be pointless.

"...it's been good to see you again," she tells him instead.

Is it a neutral and fact-based assessment, one that couldn't _-or shouldn't_ \- spring a debate. Faction aside, it is nice to see that someone she had known is doing well. It's a notion she had tried to convey in the clinic, but he had shot it down. Now it's out there.

Still, he snorts.

"Alright, alright ...I'll see you. Bye..."

In the end, there's no sense in forcing small talk, so she turns.

"That mean you're in on this?" now he's the one to continue the conversation.

"I haven't decided yet," she pauses, hands folded politely over her tablet in front of her. "Dr. Sherman was my mentor when I started training here, though; if he needs help, I will probably be part of it."

His look is unreadable, but he tilts his chin down to nod and looks away through the foyer again. She follows his gaze for a moment and sees that he's possibly staring out at the train tracks that pass by across the courtyard. Maybe he wishes to be on the next car...

In any case, Samantha understands herself dismissed. How he's able to exude such a palpable aura of authority in a place that is not his own is a little surprising. Then again, he has always been a powerhouse.

"Hey, Eric?" she pauses again when she's taken a couple steps.

He turns to meet her eye again.

"Do you ...want me to tell your parents that I saw you?"

It's not exactly a _taboo_ topic. Faction is most important, but there is not any official restrictions on contacting family members in a different faction- _most simply don't do so very often_. Some parents disown their children who defect, but other maintain a semblance of a relationship ...something cordial and often distant, but in-touch all the same.

It's clearly the wrong question here, however.

"Christ," Eric hisses and pivots on his heel to walk in the opposite direction and descend the stairs.

"That's a no," she whispers to herself.

It's surely never ideal to leave a conversation on a sour foot, but there's a haughty corner of her nature that is pleased to have been the one to leave him ruffled this time around.

Not that it matters much. She has to return to work downstairs.

She'll contemplate the Duantless project later.

* * *

 _And there's Chapter 2._

 _Let me know what you think!_


	3. Welcome

**3.**  
 **Welcome**

Samantha cannot bring herself to complain out loud, but she almost can't keep up with the long stride of the Dauntless man she's following.

Since Erudite doctors had begun working at the Dauntless compound, they haven't been left at the infirmary without a Dauntless also being present. Often this is one of the medics who generally man the Med Bay anyway, but sometimes it's another lackey who sits around doing some other work. The kindest explanation for the constant presence is that they do not want the visiting doctors to need something or get lost, but it is slightly more likely that there's actually a lack of trust.

The fact that Samantha is now following Mason, one of the medics, to the Leadership offices is evidence of the latter theory.

She'd asked him for access to medical records from the past year in order to gain a better understanding of what kind of injuries and illnesses were most commonly issues there. Id had not seemed like an inappropriate request at the time, but Mason had balked- _he didn't think he was authorized to hand over such a large scope of information_.

So he is taking her to make the request directly to leadership, which means they have to travel up through the uneven and sometimes precarious walkways of the compound. Samantha had been caught off guard by them the first time she had come and had to carefully navigate herself while wearing heels. She now wears flats whenever she comes.

Practicality.

"Here we go," the long-haired man ahead of her mutters and veers off of the ascending path.

The hallway there is a short one with several doors leading off it, three of which stood open. As they pass one, Samantha sees that they are offices. Beyond the threshold of the first, she glances in and sees Eric sitting behind a thick desk. He looks up and meets her eye for a moment, but they don't stop so she doesn't have time to wave even if she wanted to.

"Max, it's Mason," the medic announces himself when he stops to knock at the end of the hall.

"C'mon in ...Mason," the leader nods when they enter. "Morning, Dr. Thorne."

Max is a stern man, overall, but his smile always seems to be both easy and genuine.

"Good morning," she smiles in return.

"She's looking for the past year's medical records," Mason jumps right into the reason why they are there- _Dauntless don't often bother with preamble_. "I wanted to check first- it's not something we'd talked about much."

Max nods his dark head thoughtfully to start thinking that over.

"Why?"

It's Eric's brusque voice that asks this. He's filling the doorway that Mason and Samantha had just entered through, shoulders broad in the suddenly narrow space.

"Right now we only have data about sickness and injury that have sent Dauntless to us in the city. We'd like more data on the kind of complaints most people have when they come to your infirmary," Samantha supplies her reasons again.

"...what for?"

He's being unnecessarily short, she thinks, but she remains cool and factual anyway.

"To allow us a better idea about how to improve what you're stocked in. Plus, knowing what supplies are more heavily used will help us make things more efficient for patient flow when we reorganize."

Eric crosses his arms, giving no indication that her sensible explanation has phased his thoughts in the slightest.

"...seems like an easy way to get an understanding of some potential weaknesses, too."

"Eric," Max voice warns.

Samantha glances at him, then back to Eric.

"...is that what you think we want?" she frowns at the younger leaders.

"No," Max answers swiftly and with a clear sense of finality. "Eric will find those records for you and bring you downloaded copies."

Eric's jaw ticks, but he says nothing against the other man.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Would you like anything else?" Max's smile is more exasperated now than before, but he at least puts in the effort to look kind.

"No, no, that's it ...thanks."

"No problem. Can you find your way back so I can steal Mason for a sec?"

"Yes, I think so," she nods.

Many of the hallways look the same and she is still learning them, but they had not taken an intricate path to get there. She doubts she'll have trouble.

Except for the wall that is Eric blocking the doorway. He still stands with his arms crossed, his chin ticked up just slightly so he can stare down his nose at her a bit. It is a dominant gesture, but she doesn't take easily to being cowed.

Logic helps her. Dauntless may be reckless, but a committed leader can't lash out unprovoked at a helping Erudite doctor without repercussions, and he knows it. Plus, there are others in the room- _she needn't actually be scared_.

"Excuse me," she simply requests.

"...oh, of course," his answer is a little too polite before he steps aside and gives a small flourish of his arm to wave her through.

She passes through the space he'd opened up, giving him a searching look as she does so. She deduces very little ...he is being strange, but that is no concern of hers. He could work things out with Max if he doesn't like what's going on. She doesn't have nefarious intent, so there is nothing further for her to do.

So she heads back down to the infirmary, which is not really the sort of place she had envisioned before first arriving there. She had thought, _however unfairly_ _,_ that it would be cramped and unorganized. These had been expectations based on common stereotypes; she sees that, now.

Assumptions.

A slip in logic. One that has been corrected.

The unit is sizable and placed deep within the compound, one level up from what they call The Pit. The biggest problem upon their arrival had been how lightly stocked the place was; they've already begun correcting that. Historically, Dauntless restocked on a minimum of basic medical supplies on a near-weekly basis; pending approval from the heads of the hospital, they will be increasing their order size and the speed with which they can re-fill.

Another problem they'd found was the inefficiency of the current organizational system in place; that is their next project to tackle.

"Well?"

"They're going to download what we need," Samantha answers Michael's inquiry.

His hopeful look drops back to something placid, and he nods. She's almost surprised by that since he is someone with high expectations. Perhaps hes just resigned himself to what he should expect there. He is the lead doctor, but he is not the superior of everyone here and has no call to expect anything more than acceptance from the Dauntless. His kinds of accomplishments earn him respect in Erudite but may not necessarily do so here in a faction that regards bravery and acts over sharpness of wit.

"When should we expect them?"

Raymond Eastway is there, too, which is a surprise. Samantha hd felt sure that he wouldn't take-on this project, but he must have decided that it is in his best interest to work on a project that Dr. Freeman and Jeanine Matthews are closely monitoring. There she is making inaccurate assumptions again...

"I wasn't exactly provided a timeline," she confesses to the surgeon.

"Grea.t"

He's seated in front of a computer. He has been chatting with some of the Erudite labs trying to plan what kind of portable equipment they'll be able to get brought in to this medical unit. They won't be able to get an MRI machine down through the compound, for instance, but the labs have been developing various handheld scanners and small set-ups. This might be the ideal venue for testing many of those devices.

It's not a bad idea. Samantha can admit that even if she isn't Raymond's greatest advocate.

Dr. Sherman has already caught onto that fact. He had only smiled and then been kind enough to let her know that if she bribes him he will be willing to avoid scheduling the pair together.

Once the set-up is optimized and they have a routine, they won't so much need to come in groups anymore. One doctor, or possibly a pair, could come at a time and be sufficient. For now, they simply want multiple eyes creating the best infirmary possible.

As she doesn't know when she will be receiving the records she wants, Samantha moves to the small back room to retrieve the lunch she'd brought so she can sit at one of the desks and eat while she browses some of the Dauntless safety protocols they found copies of. This was less so she could comment to leadership about their rules _-_ _that was beyond her scope there_ \- but just to know.

She jumps sometime later when there is a _clatter_ on the desk beside her from a thin black box. Looking up, she sees that Eric is the source of the scare; he's standing over the desk.

The black box is a covered tablet.

"The records we asked for?" she asks, standing politely.

"Yes," he answers shortly. "They're all there."

"Thank you."

"...sure."

"If there's a problem, should we clear it up?"

Samantha fussily tucks some of her long, blonde hair behind her ear. Once she realizes that this probably looks like a nervous tick, she quickly crosss her arms to mirror Eric's own posture.

"No," his gaze is bored and his answer simple.

"Are you sure?"

He nods.

"I'm keeping an eye on you," he mutters and then looks away to scan the room before he twists to exit.

Samantha stays standing there for a while, wondering if he'd just been stating fact or dolling out a threat. Maybe calling it a warning is the best middle-ground.

' _What's his problem?_ ' she scoffs to herself when she finally drops back into her seat.

But as soon as she thinks this, she is sure that she knows the answer.

He had already said back at the hospital that he left Erudite for a reason. Now he is facing the reality of his old faction occupying his new one. Samantha glances down at her outfit: khakis with a light camisole and a blue cardigan; her hair in a braid over her left shoulder. She presents the very picture of the Erudite rules that had stifled him most of his life.

She wonders what he must think of her staying in the very place he had run away from.

.. ... ...

 **Eighteen and nervous as hell.**

 **Seated inside the hub for the Choosing Ceremony, nearly one hundred teens and their parents anxiously waited.**

 **Samantha Thorne had sat amongst them in her blue and white school uniform. She had known where she belonged and knew just what she would choose. Still, it had been a scary prospect to choose in front of so many people ...and it would be the rest of her life. And her friends lives ...where would they all go? Were some of them going to leave her life forever? A majority of people stayed within their faction of birth, but never everyone. And would everyone make it through their initiation?**

 **Things would surely change.**

 **She had told herself that change was good- necessary, even; change could be for the better, especially after the choosing. This was going to be where everyone officially started the rest of their lives. The mantra had calmed her some. Any inevitable change would be for the best and would work out in the end...**

 **When "Eric Coulter" had gotten called to the front of the auditorium, he was the first Erudite of the day to defect.**

 **Samantha had started somewhat and watched as he went to take a seat with the Dauntless members with a wide grin set on his face. Someone ruffled his short, curly hair roughly, and she had seen his eyes dark back to the Erudite section- possibly to his parents.**

 **Samantha was a little sad but hadn't been surprised. She had known him throughout school, and if any one of their peers would make it through Dauntless it was Eric- he had not belonged in Erudite. He was bright, but he had always been more than that. He'd rebuked strict rules, talked back, and had not liked sitting to study ...if he was going to learn, he wanted to** try **and do., not read it in a textbook. He was enigmatic and open ...and he'd often been in trouble.**

 **She had understood that he belonged elsewhere and was he was ready to go. Some part of her had even felt a tiny thrill spark through her chest at the idea of fresh, new beginnings.**

 **But she would stay; a defector hadn't changed her mind.**

... ... ...

And there she is in Dauntless, anyway. Funny how life goes sometimes.

Samantha let herself forget the memory. Eric is gone so there's no use in dwelling on his mood. Instead, she starts to process through the report he'd brought, making a few notes as she does so.

By the time Dr. Sherman tells her she should find a stopping point so they can leave, Samantha checks her watch and finds it's later than she had realized. It is difficult to keep a general awareness of time when there are no windows there. It's the type of thing she supposed one could eventually get used to.

She's not finished sorting over the records she has, so she goes about uploading them to her own, new work tablet. Her old one had never been recovered after the clinic break-in so she'd received a new one from the hospital. It is a newer model, and, so far, she has no complaints.

"Hi, Tabitha?" she approaches the Dauntless who's there in the infirmary with them that evening.

She is quiet but polite in a dutiful sort of way. She has long, bleached hair, several tattoos on pale skin, and wears her make-up heavily. It is a look far bolder than the Erudite flaunt, but she sits calm and confident by the door with a small computer.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if I could find Eric in his office again- I need to return this," she waves the tablet.

She has no idea if it is his personal device or if he'd meant for it to stay there in the medical unite to be used. Given his mood, she would rather not guess at that and be mistaken.

Tabitha checks her own watch, which has a thick leather band.

"...he's probably working out before dinner," she thinks aloud.

"Oh..."

"It's nuthin'," the other woman shrugs and waves for Samantha to follow her once she stands.

Samantha wonders if she could just give Tabitha the tablet to return to the leader, but if the woman isn't offering then she probably doesn't know if she's s allowed to take custody of it. Everyone here toes a line that isn't clear to her, and it makes Samantha nervous. It isn't as though Erudite doesn't have a hierarchy, but she understands the customs and chain of command in her own home.

They don't have to travel up multiple levels like she did earlier with Mason. Tabitha only leads her up to what Samantha is sure if the next floor, and then they walk a couple connecting hallways before stepping through a wide doorway that had no door.

Inside is a gym. There's a boxing ring on the other side of the room in front of numerous punching bags, and the rest of the room is full of various weight-lifting equipment. There are a few people littering the room, but they generally ignore the two women. Samantha scans the room while Tabitha does the same; she feels incredibly out of place there _\- her stark, clean clothing and small frame are juxtaposed by the sweat and the dark, baggy clothes around her._

"Eric," Tabitha calls when she realizes where he is at.

Samantha jerks and quickly follows the Dauntless woman along a row of metal apparatuses. They are headed towards someone lain back on a padded bench and pressing a metal bar with several circular weights on each end. The shirtless man _-_ _for it is very clearly a man_ \- did not stop right away but completes a few more steps before he sets the bar on its rack with a "clank."

"Tab," Eric's deep voice answers once he sat up.

"Dr. Thorne wants to return something to you."

Eric's eyes pierce **her** then.

"Alright," he ticks a nod. "You can go."

He doesn't sound upset; it is just a casual dismissal as he leans forward to catch his breath while resting his elbows on his knees.

"Are you sure?" Tabitha's painted lips dip into a frown.

"I think I can fucking handle it, yeah," he snaps.

As he does so he lifts a hand to gesture at Samantha in a **'duh'** sort of fashion. She isn't sure she appreciates the implication that she was to be "handled" but she understands his meaning so she doesn't protest.

Nor does Tabitha. After Eric's churlish retort, she pivots on her heel to go without further argument. Samantha doesn't blame her.

"Thanks, Tabitha."

She doesn't get a response.

When she turns back around, Eric is standing and cracking his neck as he swings a leg over the bench so he's no longer straddling it. Samantha eyes the sight, distracted by the inked skin stretching along his neck as he rolls it form one side to the other. She has seen the markings above his shirt collars before, obviously, but they seem to stand out now where they glisten under some sweat.

"What?" he grunts and taps on her shoulder with just enough pressure to turn her arounds so she'll head back across the room. "Never seen a body before, Doc?"

Caught staring, she stiffens.

 _Cocky ass._

"A few," she answers primly.

"Oh, I bet," he drawls from behind her. "Miss Doctor ...wearing your nice clothes, keeping your nose in a book, and doing what your told..."

He is mocking her and part of her still can't quite figure out _why_. They had been friendly before ...

 _ **'**_ _ **Faction first,**_ **'** she reminds herself.

She doesn't know him, she is able to tell herself. Not anymore. Not **this** Eric. That is the truth, though it has taken her a while to really believe it.

Not very Erudite of her.

"Erudite treats me well," she shrugs.

"That suppose t' be a jab?" Eric snorts and veers away from behind her.

He strolls toward a bench and snatches up a small towel that he runs over his face. Samantha eyes the tattoo on his back, then; it matches the style of the ones on his neck and travels straight down his spine, narrowing before it snakes past the top of his jogging pants.

"No," she answers, looking away from the body art.

"Good," he glances over his shoulder. "I'm not sorry I left."

He stoops for a black t-shirt and tugs it on while he turns back around. He stands defiantly straight and with his shoulders back. Samantha's not sure why- _he is already tall and imposing enough._

"Why should you be?" she shrugs, and she actually does mean it. "I remember how miserable you used to get" _-_ _a glare flashes over his face_ _-_ \- "and I don't think we should apologize for who we are ... ...me included."

It is a pointed tack-on, and Eric's face loosens some.

Not much.

"Always so rational."

He is still sneering, but there is less blatant resentment in his tone. She thinks so, anyway.

"Well, ya know- it's worked well so far."

"Hmmm..."

His icy blue eyes are searching, looking for something she can't know.

"Your tablet," she ignores his scrutiny and holds it out.

He grabs it from her lazily and tucks it against his side under his elbow. He sighs, still watching her and doing some kind of mental arithmetic to suss her out.

"...let's get you back, Sam."

He trudges out the door and Samantha follows closely, glancing back behind her at the other people still exercising.

"What - don't go to the gym?" Eric catches her getting a last look.

Samantha doubts he would want to have a chat about Pilates or yoga classes she's tried, so she keeps those stories to herself.

"Not like this one."

That is true enough.

Eric smirks.

In the hallway, he ushers her ahead of him with a hand on her back. He sticks close in the narrow hall but wants to see how much she has paid attention and whether she's figure out how to get around the compound. He can't say he is incredibly surprised that she has little difficulty _-_ _being from the know-it-all faction_ _-_ but he is a little disappointed that she doesn't mess up.

He leans in the doorway to watch while she rejoins her colleagues and they pack up their papers and a couple computers. The crisp blues where he usually sees a sea of black, grays, and reds is still something he's getting used to. He travels the city and ventures into other factions regularly in his work, but he is used to being able to slink here amongst his own when he is home. It's not all bad, he supposes - _but it is different._

He rarely takes quickly to change.

"We know the way," Dr. Eastway catches sight of his lingering.

Dr. Raymond Eastway of Terrace View apartments on East Ave _-_ _yeah, he knows shit_ , _too_. Eric doesn't like him or his condescension. Erudite may be the faction known for their smarts, but they are not the only ones with brains. Eric loathes the Erudite who forget that; Max finds this reaction humorous for some reason.

"I'm sure," the leader smirks.

Just for the cheek, he decides to escort them outside. From the corner of his eye he sees Samantha grin a little to herself, perhaps guessing his intention based off his tone. Probably. He scowls a little and wonders if he is predictable.

Anyway, Eastway says no more while they clean up and then follow him quietly to get up and out. Samantha and the older doctor _-_ _Michael_ _-_ are talking softly. Eric listens, but it's mostly idle chatter about some pharmaceuticals. He recognizes that a few they name are painkillers, but he's not even sure if they are talking about the hospital or their infirmary, so he ignores them.

When they reach the ground-level he shoves open a thick metal door and steps out to hold it for the group. They walk out into the back lot where some of the Dauntless' trucks are parked. Amongst them is a small silver car the doctors had driven in.

"Thank you," Michael nods cordially.

Eric nods but says nothing. Eastway returns him that favor when he passes.

"Bye," Samantha waves.

"...see ya," he mutters once she passes.

He watches them file towards their car for a moment and then re-enters the compound. The guards at the gate would slide open the chain link fence there to let them out into the alley; his job there is done.

"Why are they denying part of our requested inventory," Samantha frowns in the car Michael is driving.

She is checking her emails and sees that she'd recently received notice from the medical board at the hospital. Why would they do that if they want this to work?

"What else does it say?" Michael asks, sparing a glance away from the road.

"...they must not agree with our projection of the increased traffic that is going to be coming in now that doctors are on-site," she determines once she skims through the list of supplies on-hold. "Citing lack of proof," she quotes.

There are some things that Duantless routinely come into the city for: prenatal care and deliveries, for instance. Now that there would be doctors at the infirmary, it is perfectly reasonable to expect some of those needs to be taken over at Dauntless itself. Why go all the way across the city?

"It **is** conjecture," Raymond fairly points out from the back seat.

"Yes, but it is a logical step. Not a leap," Samantha argues.

"They will want to see that the Dauntless trust us enough to start coming before they give us everything we want," Michael figures.

"If we don't have our supplies we might not be able to provide the best care, which means they'll stop wanting to come anyway. Are they trying to set this up to fail?"

"I doubt it," Michael chuckles.

Samantha isn't sure why he thinks it is funny.

"But they're being unreasonable."

"They are being skeptical is all. Despite how much they want this to work, they cannot let go of all their preconceived notions of Dauntless. But, don't forget - they _are_ often a wildcard."

"But they're benefiting from this arrangement."

"All the same, you shouldn't leave a dragon out of your plans when he is in your backyard."

"Nice reference ...a little pessimistic of you, though, I must say. Especially considering you're the lead on this venture," Samantha's appraisal of his attitude is dubious.

"I prefer realistic, as you very well know."

"Have it your way," Samantha sighs and scowls at the tablet before clicking it off so she isn't staring at the frustrating email.

If everyone is reasonable and thinking about what's best, there is no reason the arrangement shouldn't be successful. This is especially true if Dauntless leadership are truly pushing for cooperation among their factions. Samantha and the other doctors have been told to fully cooperate with all Dauntless security measures at the Clinic; even if the Dauntless faction was known for being rowdier, she assumes they have similar orders.

Is she being idealistic?

She tries to assess herself honestly to determine if she is merely full of hubris. Maybe Mike was on a better track? Perhaps he has the better measure of the situation. Maybe she should take cues from him.

She tells herself not to worry too much. She still has her regular job- _that hasn't changed._ She wants to be a part of this working out, but her career does not necessarily rely on it.

But she will keep her head up and do her best.


	4. CH 4 - Kindness Founded on Reason

4  
Kindness Founded on Reason

.

"So how it is?"

Samantha doesn't have to ask her friend what she is wondering about. Kara White had been a little perturbed no one had invited her to join the team working at Dauntless- _she's a doctor, too, after all_. She is mostly over that now, but she is still curious.

She's not the only one who's asked. While most factions mingle a little in each others areas, Dauntless is by far the most insular group. They do dangerous work and are tucked away- _people do not often enter there._ It likely has a lot to do with the fact that their compound is physically pretty isolated while other factions spread over blocks, but Dauntless are often also pretty ego-centric, which does not breed a most welcoming vibe.

In any case, more than one person has been straight-forward enough to ask what's going on. Samantha and Kara are good friends, so it's no surprise she's comfortable inquiring.

"It's fine."

Samantha shrugs her shoulder under her pale blue blouse.

"That's hardly a sufficient explanation," the short-haired woman frowns as she blows on her coffee through pursed lips.

"The medics there are actually open to the help. Half of them prefer spending their time elsewhere, so that's probably why," she snorts.

"Doctoring doesn't earn them much prestige there?"

"Doesn't seem to ...Mason said he likes the blood, though," she recalls.

"Little psychos they're breeding over there," Kara's nose scrunches.

Samantha laughs.

"I think it's more about having gross stories to tell his friends..."

The young woman chuckled over that together. It's not as if they haven't swapped plenty of those kinds of tales. They'd gone through initiation and medical training together; especially back in those days, there had been a lot of comparing stories in a fashion akin to trying to win a very ghoulish contest. Time has lessened the habit - _whether due to respect or jaded sadness_ \- but it still occurs from time to time.

"At least they're accepting. I thought that would be your biggest problem there."

"It sounds like Max has done a good job ensuring everyone lays off. I think he really is interested in an alliance with Jeanine, like Dr. Free said," Samantha shrugs. "We are an essential faction."

"Dauntless almost is."

Samantha agrees with her friend and rolls her shoulders as she looks around the cafeteria they'd met in for their morning coffee. It is filled with morning light from being lined with windows, which look down over the city from one of the upper levels of the hospital. It is a beautiful sight; Samantha enjoys when the city is mostly-still at this early time of day. It's relaxing.

"Not everyone is ecstatic to have us," she muses.

"Well, they are known for being quite rash."

Samantha smirks.

"You remember the tall one with tattoos down his neck who was at the clinic?"

"Don't they all have tattoos down their neck?" Kara sneers. "...Mr. high and tight?" she asks more seriously, waving to the top of her head to indicate her hair.

"Uh-huh," Samantha takes a long drink of her coffee. "He's a transfer out of Erudite."

She tells Kara this because Kara transferred in from Abnegation and so would likely have less of a chance to know this.

"No kidding?"

"Mmhmm ...we were in the same class. He's not so excited to host us."

"Does he think your faction loyalty is contagious?" Kara finds this funny.

Samantha rolls her eyes just as light heartedly, but she thinks of his permanent scowl and sighs. She's not entirely sure why she, too, isn't choosing faction first and just completely ignoring him as a traitor. She supposes that's one part of The Choosing she doesn't understand: if people are perfectly within their rights to defect and are even encouraged to do so if a new faction is truly for them ...why is the act of jumping factions so often treated as treachery?

"Maybe."

"Cough on him," Kara winks across the table.

"Good back-up plan if he gets too churlish"

"He's not actually ... _malicious_ , is he? He's not being aggressive? It sounds like this Max would want to know about that..."

"No. He's just ...aloof, I suppose."

"He'll be thankful once things really get moving and they see how effective you lot are making things. You know Dauntless: actions speak louder than words to them."

Now assured that Samantha doesn't actually feel threatened by the Dauntless leader, Kara returns to being reasonable.

"Definitely true."

That is their traditional way: to go and do rather than wait and see. It is like Michael continuously says; acceptance will come _-both from the Dauntless themselves and from the medical council-_ once there are actual results to provide hard evidence. Until then, they would just keep smiles on their faces and do the work they know.

... ... ...

Keeping that smile up is, admittedly, a little easier to do outside of Dauntless where everything is a hypothetical story.

Inside Dauntless a few days later...well, it feels a little different.

Samantha is confident enough in her work, but she questions her steps. Not for any troubling case in particular, but more for the fact that someone is always watching. The Dauntless guard has not let up, and today the someone watching the infirmary is Eric himself. He doesn't interfere, of course, but he set himself up to work at one of the desks by the entrance and has not left.

Elizabeth Benson, an elderly OBGYN, is across the infirmary and has been paying the leader absolutely no mind all day. This seems the most sensible course of action but, to Samantha, his presence feels heavy in the room. The constant monitoring is still unnerving.

She feels the need to double check everything.

"So what's the final verdict, Doc?"

The somewhat older man seated casually on one of the beds tugs Samantha from her thoughts.

"Well, you'll survive," she smiles.

"Course I will," is his gruff chuckle of a response.

He had come in with a fairly deep laceration on his shoulder from an "incident" in the armory. He'd just needed stitches _\- not too many_ \- and it hadn't taken long. His story from the armory made her think of Walsh and the accident he'd had there that got him removed from this place. She wonders about him briefly, but she knows better than to ask about the ex-member.

"Just make sure you keep it clean. Take it easy if you can," she instructs while she secures tape on the bandage that covers the carefully-sewn skin.

Samantha had mostly only meant that she isn't sure if he could take a break from his job, but he seems to find her answer plenty funny. He laughs heartily for a few moments and gives her a nod.

"I'll try my best, doc. Thanks."

"Come back if you have any kind of problem with the pain left from it."

"Oh, I can deal with a little pain. Just came cuz because my old lady would have my ass if I didn't," he shrugs.

"Then I'm glad to save you that trouble," Samantha snorts and tosses her gloves into a bin.

"You're alright," the man considers her for a second before nodding once more. "Have a good one."

"Bye," she returns.

The man drops to his feet to stomp across the infirmary and straight out the door. No muss, no fuss. A very easy patient, overall.

That is something nice here. People usually come in with minimal complaining, get what they need, and then go. It is almost an Erudite-like proficiency, except that it sees to stem from bravado and physical surety rather than clinical understanding.

Similar.

But quite different.

' _Definitely different_ ," Samantha mentally sighs and takes a seat at a desk to make a few notes.

She spares a glance for Eric as she does so. He appears like cool collection, so she turns away and focuses on a write-up for 'Christiano' who'd just walked out.

Most of the patients cycling in and out are for various out-patient injuries such as his. Some were more serious and people stayed the nights in the thin beds here, others were under the weather and needed a quick prescription. So far in the few weeks they'd been operating, they aren't going to have any trouble keeping the supply stock they've been approved; if things pick up, they will be approved for the supplies that are on-hold. Samantha is pleased with this and had told Eric about it that morning; for all the notice he took of her information, she may as well have spoken a different language.

Rude.

She's reached the point of saving the electronic report when a screeching sort of cry breaks the relative quiet of the Medical Unit. Everyone comes to attention; even the teenager laying in a cot and attempting to rehydrate jumps and listens as the sound of distress grows nearer.

Elizabeth looks concerned but unsure on the other side of the ward. Samantha, likely due to her emergency medicine training, is propelled to her feet before she has even given the action a lot of thought. Eric beats her around his own desk and gives her a small shove back so that he can get to the door first.

"It's a kid," Samantha tells him, following anyway.

She is pretty sure the wailing is from a child, anyway, but Eric pays her very little mind. If she weren't suddenly on high-alert she might've stopped to process that it is pretty annoying to speak and be regularly ignored by someone.

Eric steps into the hallway, peering about suspiciously. He looks ... _ready_. For what, she isn't sure. There's just no other word for it: he's prepared.

After a few moments, his broad shoulders slump to let go of his alert tension.

"You're right," he tells Samantha in a bland fashion.

She doesn't have to walk out into the hall herself because a tall man walks in carrying a crying, curly-haired girl.

"I think she broke her arm- she fell," he tells Samantha as soon as he takes in the white coat over her blue sweater.

She smiles despite the small scare.

"Okay, bring her on over; she can have a seat at the table over here."

The man carries her to one of the gurney beds and deposits her on the edge, where she continues to cry and sniffle intermittently. She watches Samantha with wide eyes; she supposes her appearance in light clothes is not a sight the girls meets everyday.

"Are you her father?"

"Yes. Heard you have some scans down here you can take nowadays. Right?"

"Sure, if we need to," Samantha nods. "What's her name?"

"Autumn"

"Autumn," the doctor repeats with a small smile. "That's a pretty name- and also my favorite time of year," she goes on as she moves close and begins to reach for the afflicted arm. "So what happened?"

"I told you: she fell."

"I'd like to keep Autumn talking and distracted, Mr...?"

"Will is fine"

"Alright, Will ...I heard you, now I'd like to talk to Autumn. What were you up to when you fell, sweetie?"

"Playing on bunk beds," she sniffs. "Like I'm not supposed to..."

Her lip trembles some more.

"You're not in trouble," her dad grumbles.

"See? Don't worry ...you're lucky, you know? I wanted bunk beds for me and my sister when I was your age. I never, ever got them," Samantha prattles on as she inspects the small arm.

It is clearly uncomfortable for Autumn but it's also for the best. To her credit, the girl bears up quite well now that she is in the infirmary and under scrutiny.

"You're in luck. It looks like this is a dislocation in the elbow; not a break," Samantha reports, straightening up.

"That much better?"

"Yup. She won't need a cast, and her healing time will just involve taking it easy for a while once it is back in place. Sorry, Autumn- no cast for your friends to draw on."

The little girl doesn't respond much to that.

"Alright. It's a pretty simple fix. This actually isn't an uncommon injury in kids since their joints aren't as strong as adults. You might want to sit with her, though- it won't feel great."

"She'll be fine," the bald man beside her tells her gruffly.

Samantha falters.

Dauntless.

"She's young- are you sure?"

"Go on ahead," Will nods and crosses his arm.

She feels oddly as if his stoic look is an attempted reprimand.

She raises a silent but disapproving eyebrow at him. Samantha glances around to see if she is the only one who thinks the boldness is ridiculous. Elizabeth is talking to the dehydrated young man down the way, and no other patients are over here. Eric, she sees, is seated at his desk again and bent over some papers, but his head is up watching. No dissent there, either.

Dauntless.

Fine, then.

"Alright, Autumn ...we'll do this nice and quick, okay? Squeeze your eyes tight and relax. I'll fix it...'

Samantha carefully rubs down the girls arm to her elbow, which she squeezes and shifts firmly. Autumn lets out a yelp but not much else.

"Good job- you're done," Samantha smiles.

"That's it?"

"Yes. It really isn't a serious injury unless it starts happening a lot; then there might be something wrong with the joint. She should be fine, though. Any everyday painkiller you have will be okay if she is still sore. I will just need you to fill out some forms..."

Samantha fetches a work tablet and pulls up the general patient forms for him to fill out. As he does so, jabbing a finger at the screen a little more roughly than completely necessary, Samantha turns back to Autumn.

"Was that as scary as you thought?"

Autumn slowly shakes her head.

"No? Good," she beams, "your arm should be feeling better soon, okay?"

She nods.

"It already feels better, doesn't it?"

Again, the girl nods and her dark curls bounce as she does so.

"Okay, shy girl," Samantha smiles and takes a step back to give her space. "I promise I don't bite."

Then Autumn smiles ...barely.

"Good enough," the blonde doctor wipes away some of the tears that streak the girls face while her dad wraps up with the forms.

"Here," he swings the tablet her way shortly.

"Okay. Be careful on those bunk beds, little lady. You're small and they are pretty high. No more accidents. Got it?"

Autumn smiles that small smile, a blush invading her cheeks as she nods in response to the doctor's orders.

"Kindda Erudite are you?" Will asks gruffly after pulling Autumn off the bed and setting her to her feet.

"Come again?

"You look like one, but you ain't got that cold, clinical thing down yet, doc," he looks her over with disapproval. "More like Abnegation, you are..."

"She's putting her at ease," Eric unexpectedly chimes-in. "Being rested and calm is more conducive to a healing environment ... ...or so I've heard," he adds with a direct glance to Samantha.

Will doesn't seem keen to argue this theory. He just scoffs in Samantha's direction while muttering something that sounds like " _know it alls."_

She lets the name-slinging roll right off of her since she sees no distaste in knowledge. She simply watches Will lead his small daughter out, sure that he thought Eric had just slighted her by pointedly brining up some snooty thing she had recently said to him.

On the contrary, she can remember just the day she'd said those very things to him, but it had been years ago...

...

 _The cool hospital halls were confusing- they all looked the same. A seventeen year old Samantha Thorne only knew she was going in the right direction because the numbers on the doors were getting larger ...closer and closer._

 _Aha._

 _Triumph split her face and she knocked softly on the open door when she let herself in._

 _"Hello ...hi," she smiled when she was far enough inside to see her classmate._

 _He did not look in the best spirits, but he was awake- she hadn't given much thought to what she would do if he had been asleep. Eric Coulter was not always the most welcoming, so she doubted how he'd like to be woken up._

 _"Thorne?" he frowned._

 _She wasn't particularly offended at the impersonal name; it was just how he disinterestedly addressed most people._

 _"Yup," she nodded and entered further to set a single potted plant on the table next to the bed he rested on._

 _"The hell's that?"_

 _"An orchid ...it's just something I saw- I don't know much about botany," she shrugged._

 _"The hell'd you get me a flower for?" he clarified, still aghast._

 _"So there'd be something in this room," she waved her arms around- the_ ** _'duh'_** _was heavily implied in her tone._

 _He remained non-plussed._

 _"So how are you feeling?"_

 _"Like I got cut open - whattcha doin' here?"_

 _"Well, I heard your appendix ruptured. Your dad told me at school ...I was surprised he was teaching today," she admitted._

 _"No you weren't," Eric snorted. "Nothing pulls him away from work."  
"And your mom?"_

 _"Hell no."_

 _Samantha nodded, figuring as much. While his dad taught and helped run the school, his mother was deep in research ...it wasn't so shocking that no one was here once they knew he would be alright._

 _"Well ...I thought that was sad," she announced. "That's why I came."_

 _She stands straight and prim._

 _"...with a flower."_

 _"Yes," she nods and tilts her head up in defiance of his condescending tone. "Being calm and relaxed and happy means there is little emotional stress on the body- stress hormones can inhibit the immune system. Feeling calm and at ease is more conducive to health and healing."_

 _"So ...this is a favor?"_

 _He still sounded skeptical and, for a second, Samantha was unsure of her little monologue._

 _"It's a nice gesture-"_

 _"Amity."_

 _"Founded on reason," she overrode him. "Wanna play?"_

 _She held up a deck of cards._

 _Eric thought that was silly- he didn't need a play date. Then again... he felt pretty crappy, and being alone wasn't helping._

 _"Sure"_

 _"Cool"_

 _Samantha pulled over a chair while Eric slowly clicked a button to sit his bed up further._

 _"Your parents know you came downtown?"_

 _"It's not far from our apartment ... ...and they're busy," Samantha told him while she shuffled._

 _Eric nodded. Latchkey kids weren't all that rare in their faction, what with so much work and research to be done. Very young children often had teenage nannies, and older siblings were trusted to care for themselves and younger family. This cultivated many independent children ...if also a few problems._

 _"Nathaniel Perkins thinks it's quite funny. He thinks you were up to something and got hurt to rupture your appendix, even though Mrs. Abernathy says appendixes get infected for no reason," Samantha gossiped as she dealt._

 _"Remind me to wipe his smart, fucking grin off his face," Eric grumbled._

 _Samantha paused, and Eric thought he was going to get some sort of telling-off. However, she grinned._

 _"He is a jerk," she agreed._

 _She looked a little guilty, but Eric chuckled a little and picked up his cards to kick her ass in Rummy._

 _..._

"You have a good memory," Samantha comments before taking a seat at her desk once again.

"Just one of those things," he shrugs his broad shoulders indifferently.

"Guess so..."

"Is that why you did it? -went the doctor route?" Eric studies her. "Gotta do the smart thing and the nice thing?"

"Part of it," Samantha sighs. "I always liked science; going into medicine wasn't much of a question. Sociology is actually a hard part of it ...anatomy and physiology are fascinating, but they stay the same. People are always changing and you always have to alter your approach. Keeps work interesting. People are fun..."

"When they don't suck," Eric tacks-on.

Samantha should probably say that's rude, but she grins a little.

"Sometimes."

She turns back to her work; Eric must have no more to say on the topic and does so, as well.

"Hmm..."

Eric peers up at Samantha's quiet tutting to watch her click around her tablet.

"Something you wanna say?" he butts-in.

"...not right now."

"You're not the only one who can read people- what's got your panties in a twist?"

"Crude," Samantha rolls her dark eyes. "And it's none of your business.

"Excuse me?" Eric scowls.

"Are you a doctor?"

"No," he glowers.

"Then it's not your business right now."

There is no arguing this reasoning, but he can't help feel he's been put in his place and he doesn't like that one bit. Still scowling, he watches her get up and scuttle over to converse with the other doctor ...Benson, he recalls.

He glowers at the pair of them. He doesn't like not knowing. Not in the Erudite way- Dauntless is _his_ home, and he ought to be privy to the goings on. Not them.

But he is supposed to let them do their work. That's an order from Max: that no one is suppose to get in their way. Eric is a leader, too, but he'll be disrupting the chain of command to defy this project.

Besides, he's not stupid. He knows it's a good idea in and of itself to have practiced doctors on-site, but it's _them_ and he knows how nosey and knowledge-obsessed they are...

But it's fine.

It'll be fine.

They're Dauntless.

This will work. He'll see to that.


End file.
